A recent jotting, perhaps not 'finished' yet.
Although the situation it describes probably is. There is only so long you can go on daydreaming about a woman who appears completely unaware of, and/or uninterested in, the possibility of your love. And I think one year may be long enough!
'Casual' readers of the blog may perhaps be confused. This is a love (non-)story that has played out more over on my 'love & drinking' alter ego of a blog, Barstool Blues (for example, in this post, albeit very obliquely), than here...... and more in the comments than the posts themselves. I am nothing if not discreet! That may be my trouble.
Tea with Madame X
I feared my love was obvious
It filled the room like sunshine
Perhaps too warm, too dazzling
I was showing my love too freely, clumsily
Letting it flow out of me in all directions
Spilling across the table towards her
I was too obvious, I thought, too simple
But if I'd had tactics, they were forgotten
In her presence
I lost myself in the details of her
Her hair, her eyes, her mouth, her laugh
I felt my love was obvious
But she managed to ignore it
Or swept it aside, as a minor irritation
Much as she absently dabbed with a napkin
At the stray crumbs of cake on the tablecloth
She smiled and thanked me and left
The café still warm with sunshine
But in another hour or so
It would be dusk
5 comments:
Oh dear, that doesn't sound good. I hope the situation is not as beyond redemption as you seem to think.
You express yourself so beautifully in these lines. Have you ever shown her any of these poems? I really think it might help.
Well, she reads the blog occasionally, I think. But she probably doesn't realise this is about her. I fail to get her attention somehow. Time to call it a day, I think.
discretion, eh? welllll, maybe, about somethings... maybe not so much about others.
but, I am soooo not complaining. as your live-in anthropologist, doing a life study on the nights and days, thoughts and actions (or non-actions) of the Great Froog (yes, roll the "r")... I find you and your discretions and indiscretions fascinating. Please, please continue.
and the poem... captures the self-consciousness of one hopelessly in love and knowing it. leaves the reader wondering if the object of affection is that unobservant, or just being polite...
About what am I not discreet, T? That sounds like a criticism, if not a complaint. I hope I haven't done anything to offend you.
Don't mind me. I was thinking about it after I posted it (whilst drawing those henna flowers) and realized I'm just being "less than nice" this week. I'm just tired.
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